


ama me usque dum dolet; si dolet signum bonum est

by sanctuses



Category: TsukiPro the Animation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Based off Dark Moon Angel, Denial of Feelings, Falling In Love, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Rikka sleeps around, Shikirikka start off as fuck buddies, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-07 21:13:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14679627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanctuses/pseuds/sanctuses
Summary: Rikka was empty and wanted love, but he was afraid of all the bitter things that came with it.Shiki was indifferent to love, thinking it easier to live without.They meet, and there's an almost magnetic attraction between the two of them, but they're both far too afraid of falling in love.A songfic of sorts for my favourite duet in Tsukipara, Dark moon angel.





	1. amor est vitae essentia

**Author's Note:**

> before i say anything else, shinke is the reason why this was able to come to fruition at all and if not for her this would’ve been a fleeting thought i never worked on!!!!  
> also please don’t get me wrong, im a dedicated rikka stan but man these lyrics twisted these two gays up so much and this fic is a big mess. anyway, this ship is such a quality ship yet everyone sleeps on it and i don't understand why but, here's to adding one more shikirikka fic in the archives, because the archives deserve more of this quality ship......
> 
> also credits to https://llamalikesarah.wordpress.com/2015/06/21/tsukipro-solids-dark-moon-angel/ as this is where i got the lyrics from. thank you so much for your hard work, translator-sans!
> 
> but here's the important stuff!!! this fic is an au set in the pre-canon timeline before shiki has formed solids but about a year or so after his unit with shu went into hiatus. tsukino has given us too little to work with hence most of the setting here is actually based off of our assumptions...... if we’re right though, then shiki should be around 21 in this fic, and rikka will be 20.
> 
> we hope you enjoy this!!!

**_A voice from the scene asked for time to stop_ **

**_Who doesn’t want it to be stopped_**

Rikka existed, but wasn’t really living. For most of his life, he was just walking around aimlessly, doing what others told him to do-- not out of obedience or compliance, nothing of the sort-- but because he didn’t know what else to do. But it was alright for his years as a student, since doing what you were told and achieving what was expected of you was exactly what they wanted from him.

He didn’t even have the chance to think about what he wanted to do with his life as an adult since he had been scouted as a model before he graduated. He ended up becoming a full-time model because it was convenient, and he “had a talent for modelling”, as his photographers and agency often said.

His work and career weren’t the most important things to him, and he didn’t hold any specific passion for it (not that he held a passion for anything else). He had simply sidled into his job, and managed to secure a spot inside that would guarantee his career and a life of comfort. He supposed he should be considered lucky, never really needing to think about where his life was headed, never really needing to think about the future. Yet it was still relatively unsatisfying for him, since he wanted more than that.

However, he felt like his job as a model suited him really well— all that mattered in his line of work was how you looked. All you needed to do was to smile and pose the way they wanted you to. It felt like this job was made for people like Rikka who complied with the wishes of others because they just didn’t have any of their own. Although he could breathe, he had no substance and he would be whatever you wanted him to be.

As a result, Rikka lived in the moment, as that was all he had anyway. He didn’t let the past— empty, hollow and devoid of passion or desire — or the future — uncertain but relatively accounted for, which he didn’t need to think about — affect him, as they couldn’t do anything for his empty soul anyway. 

But suddenly, along the life that he sleepwalked through idly, with hardly any awareness of what he was doing or where he was going, he found something he desired. 

All he could remember about it was that it wasn’t consensual, and that the burst of pleasure that ran through him was nothing like he had ever felt before. It didn’t matter about who made him feel that way; he felt like he had a vague idea, but within the murky, blurred-out way he lived his life, he couldn’t put a name to whoever stole his virginity.

But, all that mattered about it was that it made him feel _alive_ for the first time in his life, and he became addicted to it.

That day ended up serving as an anniversary of sorts to Rikka, as twisted as that was. It marked the first time he ever felt the pleasure of having sex, and from then on he started to devolve into a hedonist.

He started to frequent bars from all over the city with the intention of fucking any random stranger who decided they wanted to buy him a few drinks. Rikka felt repulsed by his own dirty desires — he was integrated into society well enough to consider such promiscuous acts dirty — but he was reluctant to go back to his old and meaningless life in which he served as nothing but a pretty-looking doll with no essence.

Whenever he was taken to a love hotel by the strangers lucky or brave enough to approach him, he would consent to them doing whatever they wanted with his body. He didn’t really care about what they did and had zero sexual inhibitions, except the really nasty stuff; he preferred not to participate in any of those. Thoughts of how unclean he was getting by doing this would plague him from time to time, but every time they plunged into him, he felt like life was being breathed into his vacant existence. During which the importance of the stigma that was attached to the acts he was committing wasn’t so important anymore.

He wished for time to stop with every time they pounded into him, with every time his breath hitched. He wished to be able to live in that moment, at that moment when he felt like he was actually breathing, like he was genuinely alive.

Yet, time never stopped, and his fuck sessions always had to end, and he’d have to go back to his life as a mould of whatever the people around him wanted him to be. And he was just so tired of it.

However, the more he did this shameful, blatant act of fucking just about anyone who wanted it, the more he started to feel something else. It was nothing like the satisfaction that came with reaching an orgasm, but it was heavy and cold on Rikka’s skin. He didn’t enjoy it one bit. He didn’t even understand why he felt this emotion— which he realised was shame— in the first place, but he did. And he didn’t know how to cope with it if he wanted to keep feeling the enjoyment of sex.

And so, for the first time in his life, Rikka wished to go back to being emotionally numb, if it meant he could be rid of this undesirable filthiness. 

Yet he knew that he needed to feel this shame to balance out the pleasure, and he recognised the inevitability of the whole situation.

He didn’t want time to stop, because if it did, the guilt that he would have felt over his excessive indulgence would have consumed him.

He couldn’t risk that.

**_Laughing and looking from a distance_ **

**_They’re like this because of an inferiority complex_ **

**_Taking in the last breath of life_ **

**_Before falling asleep for thousands of years_**

Rikka was a relatively good-natured person who didn’t function based on envy or malicious desire. He made sure to be polite and to stick to a more conventional way of thinking (ironic, considering his line of work), and act accordingly to societal expectations. That was what his parents taught him and he never felt any particular need to be individualistic. It just further made him realise how he didn’t have any essence of his own in his later years, though.

However, it was thanks to the good-naturedness that he was groomed with as a child, that he wouldn’t really care about how people would laugh at him and keep a distance. He didn’t even remember how or when the rumour came about, but one day he saw somewhere that someone said he slept around with other men and was promiscuous. They weren’t wrong, but honestly, it wasn’t even really promiscuity; they were just one night stands, all of them. No strings were attached. He didn’t even remember any of the faces of any of those people or know their names at all, and he didn’t particularly care. Then again, maybe that made it even worse.

None of them knew about his many, many one-night-stands though, so it was always considered a rumour birthed from the inferiority complexes and nobody took it seriously. This kind of thing happened a lot anyway, and it hardly ever blew up lest there was extremely concrete evidence or he was a big star, which he wasn’t. It didn’t really affect his line of work either, because most people shrugged it off as fake news, but it did portray a negative image of him to others at least. But that image didn’t matter, for all that mattered was how he posed and smiled while modelling. Whatever thoughts and feelings that lay behind his pretty face weren’t important when all you had to do was make sure to pose appropriately and smile for the camera. 

During his time as a model, he dyed his hair into all kinds of wild colours, with the reasoning that it was convenient for modelling. But the truth was he did so with the intention of standing out and being unique in the way he never actually was; he was raised to be a conventional, regular member of society by his parents but he’d always wanted to be more than that. He just didn’t know how to be.

After he started to have sex almost endlessly, he realised it was the first and the last breath of life he’d ever have for this momentary existence of his, and he wanted to indulge in it and drown out all else that wasn’t necessary.

The ideal situation for him would be if he could share a genuine relationship with someone— which was something he realised he never actually had, and perhaps fall in love, have sex and feel _more_ than just plain, empty flings.

Yet he feared the unknown; he feared love, and he didn’t want to have to take the risk of suffering from any more bitter emotions. He’d witnessed enough people afflicted with the sin of loving another, watched how they let the emotion suffocate them, how it shattered their identities.

To be fair, Rikka didn’t even have much of an identity to shatter in the first place, but he was still doubtful of the idea that such a myth like true love could really bring him the happiness he’d desired his whole life.

In a sense, he was a hopeless romantic, musing over and admiring the love stories of others. Deep down he always held a longing for his own love story one day, but it just wasn’t practical for him. He decided it more convenient to just observe it from a distance; to simply spectate the way others’ stories entangled and how they inevitably unravelled and reached a conclusion, whether it was a happy end or not.

He accepted that this was all he was ever going to have, and it was alright. Life, similar to love stories, was just as fleeting and had to reach a conclusion, an end, as well.

Rikka accepted that this was going to be another phase of his life which would pass eventually, yet he still wanted to savour it for as long as he could. For after this period of momentary pleasure was over, he would have nothing left and fall back again into his lucid slumber for thousands of years until he rotted away.

To Rikka, there was no difference between a corpse and someone who was devoid of wants or needs anyway.

**_Exchanging kisses in the back of an alley for free_ **

**_Even without flavour, it gives them a real high_ **

**_A night of nothingness begins from here_**

He shared an empty kiss with a stranger at the back of an alley, the only feeling present being lasciviousness. Rikka couldn’t help but wonder if this was really all his body amounted to; the price of the other party’s silence.

There was nothing at all behind the kiss, the embraces or the act of having sex, even though all the above actions were meant to symbolise love. It had no flavour, yet the other party seemed to enjoy it all the same, the only thing he wanted being a hole to fuck.

The bitter aftertaste of shame was getting stronger and he realised that this kind of sex reminded him of his own life. It reminded him of how empty and lacking emotion and passion everything was. All they were doing was objectifying him as a convenient way to pleasure themselves, and he didn’t matter to them.

As he went through more nights of tasteless, filthy sex with people he didn’t know and would never bother to, he wasn’t enjoying it as much anymore. The insertions didn’t feel as great as they used to and the whole act just felt messy and senseless. The feeling of being come into also started to feel more repulsive and he grew to loathe it.

The life he used to have grew too bland for him who had awakened to worldly pleasures, but now he was getting desensitised. The taste of pleasure with its spicy tang was gradually fading— having too much of something you enjoy at once makes you enjoy it less, he realised— and now the acrid bile that always followed was only getting stronger. The flavours weren’t in balance anymore, and he realised that if he kept this up any further, he would get enveloped by the revolting shallowness of the true meaning behind “no strings attached”.

**_Bawling as the clock hits midnight_ **

**_I guess it’s an unprecedented Candy Crusher_ **

**_I need the person I’m dependant on_ **

**_This great a love is a complete disease_ **

The acerbic and undesirable taste of disgust and shame continued to spread through Rikka, forcing itself into his bloodstream and pulsing through his veins with vigour.

His list of wants was gradually increasing as well, his initially wanting to feel anything at all now morphed into a need for an emotional connection of some kind.

It wasn’t like he didn’t try to connect with people through his life, but he just never really understood how to. He couldn’t relate to them with how they were always so overwhelmed and unable to control themselves when Rikka didn’t even have anything to need to have a control of in the first place. He envied them, able to be so vivacious and lively, while he was forced to remain a hollow husk.

The underlying need to connect with someone who felt the same way as him was probably what brought them together, in hindsight, but he remembered it was at the stroke of midnight, through the bawls and cries of the people around him at the bar.

He was just staring into space before they met each other’s gaze, and suddenly he couldn’t take his eyes off of the elegant purple eyes and hair the other man possessed. There was just something invigorating between them and he felt a sort of magnetic attraction, a piercing passion shooting through him like lightning. He started to grow high on that feeling, and let it rob him of his logic and rationality.

The man who he didn’t know displaced the toxic bile that ate Rikka up from inside with pure, unadulterated desire, and he loved it more than anything. Now he actually had something to compare it to, and it was far better than all else he had experienced before.

Every touch gave Rikka an electric shock, and he grew addicted and started to long endlessly for the feeling to keep repeating itself. He wanted to linger on every moment for as long as he possibly could before he would be let go of; inevitably, he knew. They embraced and it was tender, and Rikka found comfort in it without knowing why— he would find out the reason for this later on. But at that point, he found relief in the visage of the other, and just _knowing_ that there was something deeper beneath that piercing stare and the aura that exuded coldness made Rikka shiver. He didn’t even know how he was seeing through the other, but he was, and he realised that they connected in a way Rikka had never done so with anyone else before.

Something switched on within him, and while he wasn’t actually the sort of person who had a hankering sexual appetite (ironic, considering how he always slept around), he felt a burning lust for the other and it was bordering more onto the unexplainable as to why.

He felt warm and comfortable, even as he was being done against a cold wall in the wee hours of the morning. It was supposed to be empty and hollow as usual, yet with this man, it felt different. He actually enjoyed its sweetness which didn’t leave a bitter aftertaste in his throat, and in those moments saturated with pleasure, nothing existed in their worlds except for each other.

The whole concept of “love at first sight” was something Rikka mused about in his imagination. It wasn’t surprising, for he was always attracted to ideas which concerned the immediate reaction to another person and a following influx of feelings. He dreamed of being able to have that one day, but he also considered it a myth as well, since he felt like it would never happen in his case.

Now he wasn’t sure what he was feeling about the man he fucked that night, and as he continued to think about how enamoured he was with him, he couldn’t dismiss the man as being a mere good fuck. It was deeper than that, almost proportional to the impact he had on Rikka.

Curious as to what exactly made that man so special, he started to hunt him down with the one goal of seeing him again. The feeling of searching for something, the feeling of _having a goal_ , it made Rikka tingle with anticipation and anxiousness and he relished the taste. It wasn’t the same kind of spiciness that he was used to when he was being fucked, it was a little sourer and more vigorous. It made him itch with a strange, clear coolness and it was refreshing the way a mint would be.

He was excited to officially meet this man who could bring him such a large influx of emotions, this man who single-handedly managed to pour emotion into him the way he desired all his life.

He visited that same bar he met the man at right after he got off of work daily, and it became a kind of routine for him; heading to the bar and ordering a light cocktail, looking out for hints of purple amongst the heads of dark-coloured hair and the clinking of glasses. He loved the feelings that came with searching, the _desperation_ , the _impatience_ of having to wait so long to no avail, and the _frustration_ when he didn’t see the man and had to come back the next day.

The novelty he linked with these emotions quickly dissipated by the fourth time he had to go to the same bar; he was growing tired of it and now the emotions that flowed in were only causing an irritation beneath his skin, and it was exhausting.

By the middle of the next week, Rikka got tired of it and ended up relenting, deciding that he wasn’t going to try anymore. He never saw the man there again, and he couldn’t understand the heavy weight that sunk in on him and made his chest want to burst. He figured that was disappointment, and while it wasn’t as bitter as shame, it was salty with the prominent tang of bitterness as well, and he didn’t like it.

The next few days that followed were empty as usual again, with Rikka painfully aware of how much he was missing out on with his every-day, lacklustre life. He wanted to feel more; though he actually only wanted to feel positive, and he didn’t want to go through the negative emotions he carelessly covered up within his heart.

Rikka sighed. He was at work, weary from his activities from the previous days; he stayed at the bar for at least 3 hours from midnight, and he did that day after day until he finally gave up. He was tired and decided he wouldn’t be able to work like this. He hadn’t been told to enter the studio yet, so he had free time until they were done with preparing the photoshoot.  It was going to take a while, he deduced, based on the number of backdrops and clothes racks he saw the staff rolling in. It was going to be a tiring day for him, and he decided he probably wouldn’t have the stamina for a shoot that day if he was dead tired. He didn’t have enough time for a nap either— which he doubted would help his tiredness anyway— and settled on getting some coffee. But just as he lifted his weary self out of his seat, he saw a flash of purple pass by him.

He turned around instantly, suddenly alert, and everything about that height and figure was familiar to him. Rikka just knew that that had to be him, that this was the man he held a connection with in some way or another. It was bad etiquette to run in their corridors though, so as the figure was getting smaller, he made sure to catch up and grasped the other man’s hand. The man turned around, and Rikka melted in his gaze, shoulders relaxing and suddenly he felt less tense. He could see the confusion in his violet eyes, and before the other man could say anything, Rikka decided it’d be a better idea to bring him somewhere more private first. He just _had_ to find out what made this man so special.

He turned and stopped at a secluded area within his work building, panting. As he was about to ask the man who he was, and how he could make him feel so good yet hold more depth than all the other lecherous eyes that treated him as nothing more than a hole, the man spoke up.

“Never would I have thought the rumours of Sera Rikka sleeping around were actually true,” he chuckled.

“How..? How did you find out my name?"

The tone in his voice hinted much more towards a pleasant surprise and curiosity than to fear that the other knew his secret (was it really one?), and he noticed that the other seemed shocked that he didn’t appear to care— which he was right in thinking, because Rikka really didn’t care much about that.

Rikka wasn’t particularly scared that he was found out, but he was surprised and felt a little flattered that this man who he was so infatuated with at that point— gosh, he sounded like a schoolgirl thinking such a thing— knew who he was.

“I thought you looked familiar that night at the bar, and I wanted to ask you if I knew you, but then before I knew it we ended up fucking and I didn’t get to ask for your name to confirm my suspicions,” he said, nonchalantly.

“Who… Who are you?”

Rikka’s eyes were glimmering at this point, he was sure.  
  
“Takamura Shiki.” The name sounded vaguely familiar for a while, before he came to the realisation that this man, Takamura Shiki, was actually a big name in the entertainment industry. He was the songwriter and leader in a popular idol unit that disbanded about a year ago or so, and Rikka suddenly felt silly for not recognising him. As someone in the entertainment industry as well, he was honestly obligated to know. 

His thoughts were distracted when Shiki cleared his throat.

“Sorry, but you seemed so lost in thought. Could I ask why you brought me here? I don’t have a lot of time.” Rikka could detect the sternness in his voice, and it matched the grunts and groaning of that day well. This was definitely the same guy.  
  
“Ah, well. If you’re busy, that’s okay. I can talk to you later, I just needed to confirm who you were. Thank you for your time, then, Takamura-san. Could I meet you at the same bar we met at, tonight at 10 pm?” Rikka beamed his usual business smile, doing his best to mask his internal delight. 

Shiki smiled back, even if it was small.

“Sure.”

**_We will mix it_ **

**_In a timid way_ **

**_Untying it together, like a bandage_ **

**_Rhythm jealously_ **

**_Expose it all_ **

**_Before I take it off_**

Shiki arrived at the bar at 10 pm sharp with Rikka arriving about one or two minutes later. It was late into the day already, but the bar was still relatively empty as “the night was still young”;  Rikka was expected it to get crowded in about an hour or so, and he would have to leave sooner than that with Shiki. He highly doubted the other liked having private talks like this in such a public area after all.

Frankly, it was awkward, because Rikka really didn’t know what to say to him. Should he just be straightforward and tell him he wanted to fuck again? It wouldn’t leave a good impression— not that their first meeting was any better— and he just wasn’t as crude as that. Rikka had manners, and he prided himself on that.

It was yet another one of the things he was groomed with as a child, which reminded him of his almost sordid past.

He realised he had changed a lot from before he started fooling around, where he was too used to it. His past affected him now, or at least his actions did, and he wondered absentmindedly if having a conscience and something to be guilty for was better compared to having nothing at all.

They sat drinking for a little less than half an hour, Rikka with a moulin rouge and Shiki with a martini. They shared about themselves to each other briefly, but overall didn’t talk much. Even if they weren’t talking to each other however, they were getting tipsy, and Rikka figured that by the time they got to the fucking, they’d be sharing truths with each other that they didn’t even know they had.

“The reason I called you out here today is because I, as you know, sleep around. But that’s not the main reason, of course,” a slightly tipsy Rikka looked at Shiki, gazing into those piercing purple eyes of a hue which matched his own. “You just felt so much better than anyone else I’ve ever been with, and I kind of want to do it again .” He paused, and stared at Shiki nervously.

Shiki hesitated. Rikka could notice his harshness wavering, and he smiled a little. _He was so cute!_ “...Okay, but let me take you to a hotel this time. I have more class than just fucking you right behind a bar we met at.” Shiki responded.

Rikka felt an inexplicable wave of happiness at hearing that, and stood up in eager anticipation. He was hungry for the same pleasure this man gave him back then, and Rikka was exhilarated, and even more excited for what was to come.

Shiki decided to go to one of the more high-end love hotels, which surprised Rikka, but he realised he shouldn’t have been since the other was famous, so he figured this was but a drop in the sea of money that Shiki had.

He was still surprised that Shiki would want to go to such a high-end hotel with _him_ , though. They hardly even knew each other.

They were getting ready to fuck, and Rikka was stripping his clothes off while Shiki went to freshen up. Shiki looked really exhausted too, with those bags under his eyes. Rikka could relate to it, honestly. But the coffee he grabbed after meeting Shiki officially really helped out a lot.

As Rikka laid himself bare on the bed, while waiting for Shiki, he dazed off, mulling over the rottenness of his lacklustre life, the emptiness of those meaningless, solely pleasure-seeking one-night-stands he used to have so frequently, and this man, who he felt so attracted to. Frankly, he never stripped for his one-night-stands, usually leaving his shirt on as they tore off his underwear. But he figured that if it was Shiki, he would have no qualms laying himself out for the other. In fact, he could tear everything off Shiki as well.

He hadn’t noticed Shiki return until he felt a weight on the side of the bed, and the mattress sunk in. He smiled, knowing what was coming, and let himself get intoxicated in the scent of the other, as he wrapped his arms around Shiki’s neck and pulled him into a long, sensual kiss.

“Time to indulge.”

**_I’m sure you wanna say it’s eternally painful_ **

**_Such feelings crash down from the moon_ **

**_What time glamorous you are enchanting_ **

**_It doesn’t matter where, it’s going to break_ **

As Rikka stirred, he only further realised his hypothesis was correct. 

He held a connection with Shiki and fell in love with him amidst their differences, and he was getting filled with unfamiliar emotions— sensations he would enjoy at the start but start to hate as they lasted— as all kinds of feelings came crashing down on him. He probably won’t be able to live without Shiki anymore, and have sex without that same sultry passion and lust, yet with undertones of tender, loving care for the other. He was completely smitten by the other, and deep down he wished Shiki felt the same way.

For the first time ever in Rikka’s sexual history, he decided to stay until his partner woke up, and not leave right after having a shower. It felt so foreign to him, and he was thrilled to finally be able to feel like he had the right to stay until the other woke up and not that he should have left as soon as possible. Whenever he woke up at hotels after having flings, even if his partner for that night hadn’t roused yet, he knew they wouldn’t want to see him.

He wasn’t anything to them but “last night’s mistake”, after all. Why would they want him there?

The hotel was really high-class, so after coming out from his shower, he decided to snack on the complimentary food provided. It was nice too, and Rikka decided to brew some coffee while taking the extra time he had to himself to wonder what he was going to do now. Shiki had basically come in and wrecked his principles, rules, desires and now he had to take responsibility. He didn’t know what he was to do now, to satiate his desires.

He’d mostly packed up to leave and was only waiting for Shiki to rouse from his sleep because he really _needed_ his number, now that he finally could get ahold of the other. The last thing he wanted was to have to repeat his staying at a bar, waiting for hours when he wasn’t sure if the other was even going to turn up. The frustration he felt back then clenched at his chest and made him suffocate with impatience, and that was something he would prefer to live without.

Rikka sighed, eyes mulled over, still feeling slightly feverish from the early hour and lost in thought, before he got startled by a weight leaning against the back of his chair. Rikka bent his head back to see Shiki, and his shoulder came into contact with his crotch, startling Rikka.  
  
“Feed me,” Shiki drawled out, eyes still half-shut and so groggy he didn’t even bother to find something to cover himself with.  
  
“Please cover yourself up, Takamura-san,” Rikka blushed, passing Shiki a cup of coffee he had brewed. “Also, go freshen up, you look awful right now. I’ll grab a towel for you and your clothes.” He rushed over to the toilet, feeling the blood run up to his face, as he thought about how absolutely unguarded the other was after waking up. He took pleasure in it, and it made him feel so light and tingly all over.

After passing the towel and clothes to Shiki, who merely grunted in response, he remembered his main reason for even waiting for Shiki to wake up.

“Takamura-san, could I have your number?” Rikka asked, clenching his fist in anxiety, unsure of what kind of response he’d get.

Shiki anticlimactically grunted in response, clearly only half-awake, and passed Rikka his phone and contact details. Rikka went ahead and saved his contact details, while also saving his own contact details in Shiki’s phone. He then got ready to leave, packing up his stuff. He found himself always having necessities convenient for overnight stays like toothbrushes and facial foam in his bag, which made him realise how little he actually woke up in his own home.

“Call me again whenever you want another good time, Takamura-san.” Rikka grinned, hints of eagerness and mischief in his clear voice. Shiki picked that up even through his delirious state. And amidst Shiki’s muddled, half-awake, not fully-functioning head, he responded.

“Sure thing, Rikka.”

Rikka let go of the doorknob in shock, and the door slammed shut in front of him.

His fear and desire of love became all the more apparent at that moment, and he suddenly remembered why he didn’t even want to fall in love in the first place. Even if he was enjoying the sweet delectable flavour of a brightly blooming love now, just like the way the love stories he witnessed went, his love would pull too taut, and it would snap and break. And what would follow would only be a melancholic, sharp aftertaste that would flood his entire being and fill him entirely with the bitterness of a lost love.

It didn’t matter where, but it was going to break.

**_This is a hypersensitivity reaction_ **

**_Aware that it’s impossible Jumping Junky_ **

**_I don’t care about the love of this fleeting life_ **

**_So I’m all for being alone when I’m old_**

Shiki went to bars pretty often, but not this one. He was the ex-leader of an idol unit, successfully making it big as a songwriter and producer, and he had more than enough money to go to more high-end bars as opposed to this shoddy pub. Yet he found himself walking in, ignoring the way the place reeked of cheap alcohol, and sitting himself down to have a drink. He absentmindedly observed the people around him, seeing the group of men still clad in their officewear with a weary look on their faces, the dead-drunk lady screaming to nobody in particular about her husband cheating on her, 

and then, Shiki saw him.

He, who held an aura of voluptuousness. One part of him vaguely remembered seeing that face, that slender figure, those luscious rose-coloured locks, somewhere. The other part of him felt captivated by the dreamy pink eyes of the other, feeling an inexplicable but apparent chemistry between them. They locked gazes for a short while, staring at the other while they drank. Then, the slender, gorgeous man walked over to him, their faces both reddish from the alcohol, and Shiki could feel his sense of reason fade away into the void. Suddenly nothing really mattered anymore, except for this man, except for how good he felt, except for their hypersensitive reaction to each other.

Even after they parted with muttered farewells, his mind was filled with the colour of pink, the colour of his hair, the colour of his eyes. He couldn’t get the other man out of his head, and it was his first time having to deal with such a thing. He went about his days as per normal, albeit being a bit more dazed than usual, before he ended up seeing a familiar-looking man on the cover of a magazine.

He was a model, apparently. Sera Rikka. Famed for his feminine features and his delicate yet smoothly carved appearance, he was successful. Shiki flipped through the magazine, observing how the man’s slender physique accentuated how the clothes he was modelling looked, noticing the solemn expression he wore on his face. He looked almost sorrowful, with an air of sensuality about him. But perhaps Shiki was just biased, considering how their first meeting (though, not really) was just them fucking. His first impression of Rikka would forever remain stained with the social stigma of him acting like a slut.

Out of curiosity and sheer fascination, he went and searched up about him, trying to find out more. After a bit of digging, he then uncovered a few articles of rumours that Rikka was promiscuous and slept around with men like a common whore. Taking into account that Rikka never even asked for his name before they fucked and that he never bothered to ask for his contact, he realised it had to be true.

Shiki wasn’t the sort of person who mused about love and romanticised things. He was indifferent to “such useless emotions”, as he used to say, and didn’t understand why people would go to such meaningless lengths for love. He always dismissed it as a mere infatuation that would never have any benefits. Yet, after realizing that this man, who had just waltzed into his life and made an impact on him through a quick fuck, was so _slutty_ , he felt a pang of hurt deep inside the crevices of his heart.

He would never acknowledge it. And he was never going to.

Or so he tried to convince himself.

The last thing he expected from that encounter that day, was for the man, Rikka, to ever try to communicate with him again. He thought that would be their last encounter, and a small part of him felt relief that it wasn’t. He disregarded that as wanting to be able to feel Rikka again, for how good a fuck he was. Shiki didn’t care about feelings, after all. He was always level-headed and stayed calm no matter what, that would never change. But even he could tell he felt something different-- even if he didn’t know what, and he was more than happy to entertain the other male. He would get a free fuck, and Rikka would be able to check whatever he wanted to check, Shiki didn’t remember. Both sides would win from this, so what reason did he have to not go ahead?

Shiki could hardly recollect the events of what happened that morning and was groggy almost throughout his interaction with Rikka after he woke up. He _did_ wake up for real when the door of the hotel slammed shut, however, and he momentarily wondered if he did something wrong. Shiki was always a grump in the morning, so he hoped he didn’t scare his partner, no, fuck-buddy, off into leaving. He became aware of the taste of coffee lingering on his tongue, and he wasn’t sure when he had even made coffee or started drinking it per se, but it didn’t matter.

What mattered was what came next, and where this strange relationship was going to end up.

If they ever got caught for what they did together, it was bound to cause a huge scandal, considering their positions in the entertainment industry. Shiki never got involved in anything of the sort before, but being closer to such an incident than a normal person would, he knew how troublesome and damaging it was to the reputation and career. Honestly, he didn’t even understand how Rikka’s promiscuity didn’t get leaked out before, but he supposed the other man was more careful than he let on.

It was awfully risky, but it was possible in the name of pleasure. As long as their relationship never progressed beyond being fuck buddies, it would be okay.

_It would be okay._

He wondered if he was saying that to convince himself as opposed to stating a fact.

The next time they met, they were having coffee together at a cafe. It was a few days past their last meeting, in which Shiki had conveniently forgotten about the way Rikka slammed the door on him. It was just less complicated not to bring it up.  
  
Shiki knew better than to question the feelings of someone he was trying to keep at an arm’s length, and he didn’t want to deepen the relationship they were currently having. He didn’t particularly care what the slam was about anyway. Rikka was just Shiki’s fuck buddy, and Shiki was Rikka’s. They were in this only for the sex, nothing more. It was easier this way if they just shared ties like this without furthering their relationship into something more than it was supposed to be. 

The cafe was quaint and relatively empty, but that was probably thanks to going there at the unusual timing of 7 pm, where most would be finding dinner instead of holding a conversation over freshly brewed coffee. They shared an empty, inane chat about their workplace and environment, mulling over the current setting for entertainment, seemingly befriending each other but both of them being almost separated from reality. They were speaking without soul, and they were just _there_ for the other to just let things out to. It wasn’t anything like forging a bond. He didn’t know how to explain it, but it was comforting. 

He had to remind himself that this was just going to be a temporary set-up and that both of them couldn’t afford for it to last any longer than that. Shiki was okay with being alone forever, and this would just serve as sexual relief. It was nothing more than that.

**_A rash explanation is the trick_ **

**_Deciding on a surprise attack with no pride_ **

**_With your hand around their throat, your ego manifests_ **

The ‘inexplicable but apparent chemistry’ he felt between himself and Rikka was but a uniquely burning lust for each other. That was all. That was what he told himself whenever he took Rikka to a hotel to have sex.

Nothing else mattered as they took each other’s clothes off, sweat sticky on their skin, as they embraced while Shiki rammed into Rikka at a rhythmic pace, sometimes making Rikka think about the songs Shiki wrote as the rhythm was similar. (While Shiki didn’t know it, Rikka did substantial research on the other and actually bought copies of every song that Shiki was involved in, whether or not he sang it, composed it, or wrote it.)

It became somewhat of a routine-- meeting each other after they got off work, heading to a hotel and then just fucking. It wasn’t as frequent as Rikka’s previous arrangements with his faceless and nameless flings and became more of a weekly or twice-a-week thing. Usually, they’d share dinner in the hotel as part of room service, and honestly? The food they offered at love hotels was pretty good and the facilities were comparable to the fancier, more high-end hotels out there, so the both of them got used to it.

Nobody actually ever saw them, far too immersed in their own worlds to even recognise the two of them, which was good in a way. They never headed to the same hotels, always switching around for whichever place was convenient, and it reminded Rikka vaguely of his previous arrangement of heading to random bars frequently to pick up some random to fuck. Reminding himself of his earlier arrangement and self made him remember the pungent tang of shame, but he shrugged it off.

The both of them sought each other out as a way to relieve themselves of their sexual desire, but along the way, they grew more intimate, and they pretended not to notice. (Or at least, Shiki did.)

Rikka was already aware of his going beyond the boundaries of what their relationship was supposed to be. But he would be lying if he said he really cared when he could get lost in the eyes of the other, and vanish beneath the veil of comfort that having sex with Shiki gave him 

The time they had together was always so different-- it was never just about the pleasure, and it wasn’t as meaningless and empty as his other sexual encounters, not even from the start. There was always something more to it, something deeper, which Rikka finally understood was their shared apprehensiveness to love and romance.

He started to hanker even more for the emotions built beneath Shiki’s cold facade, and became hungry for him to release and expose everything he had to him.

He thirsted for them, and one day while they were fucking, something snapped within him. And as he dug his nails into Shiki’s skin, as Shiki grunted with every thrust, as they embraced each other with underlying sentiments, Rikka’s passions that he kept hidden from the other leaked out in the form of a breathy “I love you”. Suddenly his pride didn’t matter, and he didn’t really care anymore. He loved Shiki, and he was prepared to face all the bitter emotions that would flow in inevitably with the tiny sweetness.

Shiki didn’t know if he heard that correctly, and he released Rikka. 

“What did you say?”

A wave of tranquillity washed over Rikka, and he beamed. “I love you, Takamura-san.” He never even denied it, but being able to release it this way was filling him to the brim with satisfaction. 

“You don’t love me,” Shiki said coldly in between pants, a tenseness present in his voice as he avoided Rikka’s eyes, as if he knew that his facade would drop if he even glanced at them momentarily. “You just like getting fucked by me, and you’re mistaking that for love.”

Rikka smiled wearily. He kind of expected such a response from him, considering how Shiki was the one who prided himself on being rational, level-headed, always maintaining his composure. He knew Shiki didn’t believe in the concept of love and dismissed it as the sort of unreliable musings of romantics, hence why would he accept his confession?

Rikka was okay with this, but he just _had to_ make Shiki realise he was lying to himself. He knew they had an attraction that was almost magnetic, and he wanted Shiki to realise. He didn’t want to be the only one who admitted to loving, even though both of them had mutual forebodings about love. If he was going to let himself get torn apart by “such a meaningless emotion”, he was going to drag Shiki into it with him and make them drown together. Petty, he knew, but that was the last he had of his pride.

He sat down on Shiki’s lap, relishing his stiffness. He grabbed Shiki’s head and turned it to face him, and he could see through Shiki’s cold, harsh disposition. He smiled. “You’re only saying that to convince yourself. You love me, you _want_ me, but you’re too scared to admit it.”

Rikka chuckled.

“And that’s what I love about you."

**_Under the disguise_ **

**_Clenching your teeth_ **

**_A free lady becoming like salt*_ **

**_Break off the chains_ **

**_Go insane_ **

**_Because I’ll be in bed_**

Shiki felt cornered, he felt seen through by those seemingly harmless pink eyes. Eyes which acted more like orbs, seeing the truth beneath the rigidness of his face, able to discern what was real and what was false. He wanted to placate Rikka somehow, but he was stuck. He decided to disregard it, to bury it deep within what they had. He felt bound by Rikka, chained so tightly he couldn’t escape. 

And it was true, he couldn’t escape Rikka as much as he tried, and that's why they even kept this arrangement in the first place. Nevertheless, he just couldn’t accept that. He feared it too much to do so. Rikka’s fidelity* to Shiki was unquestionable at this point, as he only slept with Shiki now, and never looked at anyone else. He didn’t know why exactly Rikka was so dedicated to him, but Shiki caused this, and he felt obligated to pay Rikka back in a way.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but let’s continue.”

He crashed his lips into Rikka’s, not letting the other respond as they shared a sloppy, passionate kiss. As he thought, this was fine, wasn’t it? When they fucked, they both let themselves be engulfed in the soul of the other, they let themselves be free. It was the only time for both of them to be honest with each other. Inhibitions didn’t exist when they connected with each other like this, both physically and emotionally. In a way, that was what Rikka wanted, right? They’d go insane together, by each other, and nothing could stop them anymore.

This should satiate him.

**_I always wanna be infinite and unable to die_ **

**_These blooming feelings are soaked in the moon_ **

**_Like a princess you are enchanting_ **

**_It doesn’t matter where, let’s indulge in it_ **

Shiki wanted to be invulnerable to such worldly hurts, disguising his apprehensiveness to accepting the concept of love as a mere disinterest. As an idol, it was more convenient for him in a sense. He could always play off his romantic “disinterest” as being committed to work, which in turn would work well with his being a workaholic. But now, he didn’t exactly have an excuse. He was just a songwriter and producer, who didn’t have any restrictions on his love life. He couldn’t mask his wanting to maintain his indifference as anything else.

He just didn’t want to suffer the backlash of emotion he saw other people afflicted with. He saw love as a kind of disease that infected your brain and messed with your logicality, and he wanted to remain unable to die, unable to agonise over that. Was that so wrong?

But as their days followed, their regular routine of fucking continuing, he knew he couldn’t hold on anymore. He realised he wasn’t vaccinated to the disease called love, and his feelings were blooming further. They wrapped themselves around his lungs, tightened with every beat of his heart, and refused to let go. Shiki wouldn’t be able to resist any longer. Rikka seemed to have relented in a way, patiently waiting for Shiki to come to terms with himself, but Shiki didn’t want Rikka to witness that. He felt like it would be a bruise to his ego, and he didn’t want anyone to ever see his rationality crumble so easily,  and especially not Rikka.

He then absorbed himself in his work, taking on a lot more jobs than usual, and forcing himself back into his workaholic lifestyle. It acted as a great way to prevent himself from falling further into affection and intoxication for Rikka. He avoided Rikka, always saying he was too busy to meet with the other and that he couldn't help it. It was a lie, of course, but he couldn’t take the risk of more intimate fucking which would result in his opening up too far. 

It had been about three weeks since they last had sex, and Shiki realised those days of fulfilling his desires with Rikka really helped him when he was pent-up. He wouldn’t even go to anyone else who wasn’t Shiki anymore, and Shiki felt kind of guilty for that, however, a glimmer of pride lit up within him.

Rikka was like a princess, enchanting him, and that was all there was to it. That was all that it should’ve been. That was the reason why he even went along with Rikka in the first place, and love was never an option.

He should’ve expected it, but after their dry spell stretched over to a little over a month, the both of them couldn’t take it anymore.

This time, there were no emotions involved. It wasn’t even at a hotel-- they were doing it in the toilet of the building Shiki worked at. It vaguely reminded them both of their first time together, and Shiki wondered if it this was what all they had had reduced itself into. 

But, he figured, it didn’t matter where. They would just indulge in it, for that was their original motives in even seeing the other in the first place.

**_Why is it not me?_ **

**_“You’re not alone,” you said_ **

**_You knew and yet_ **

**_Your voice is far away_ **

Rikka couldn’t understand why he couldn’t be Shiki’s exception to his stubbornly built walls. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t be Shiki’s. He vividly recalled the way Shiki had first asked him why he slept around so much in the first place, in which Rikka exposed the most fragile part of himself, and ended up pouring his heart out to Shiki about how he felt empty and craved yet feared love at the same time. He was scared of what rejection would bring him, yet he wanted to love greatly, for he felt like loving could fill up his empty soul, and he didn’t want to risk losing that. 

He would never be able to put into words the amount of comfort that came with when Shiki said “you’re not alone”. He was glad that someone else felt the same way, and from then on his resolve broke even further as he connected with Shiki through sex. Shiki feared love as well, he wanted to be separate from it.

Yet, even though they were supposed to be ‘together’ in how they felt about love, Shiki only made Rikka fall further into it as he watched from a distance, refusing to get closer. A sense of betrayal clouded Rikka’s mindset as the realisation that Shiki knew what he was doing to Rikka was hurting him, and Rikka then became even more desperate to pull the other in with him into this pit. He yearned for nothing more than to have Shiki love him back.

On the flipside, while Rikka was right that Shiki knew he was affecting the other a lot, he didn’t know he was affecting Shiki as well. For Shiki, Rikka was just too bewitching, and he was head over heels for him even if he didn’t want to admit it. He couldn’t bring himself to pull away, unable to deny their magnetic attraction to each other, but he couldn’t fall down so humiliatingly in front of the man he loved either. He simply couldn’t.

He also thirsted for Rikka to love him, yet when he realised Rikka already did, he didn’t know what to do about it. And after they finished fucking, they left off there, leaving their desires unfulfilled and emotions unsatiated.

**_I’m sure you wanna say it’s eternally painful_ **

**_Such feelings crash down from the moon_ **

**_What time glamorous you are enchanting_ **

**_It doesn’t matter where, it will break_ **

It had been yet another dry spell for them both, but physically, it affected Rikka mostly. His body wasn’t used to not having sex for such a long time. He was itching with desire, his body burning with ardour for Shiki. He felt empty and incomplete once again, and he wondered if he would’ve been better off never having been exposed to this kind of pleasure in the first place. Still, he was afflicted with the pain that came with falling in love, both mentally and physically. He was technically prepared to deal with it, but the onslaught was far greater than he expected. Rikka didn’t know how to deal with this any further, but he what he knew for sure was that he definitely had to do something about it. Letting it stagnate was going to do nothing for the both of them, and he was at his limit.

The same went for Shiki, as the emotions he tried hiding deep within himself chipped away at his heart, and made it leak all the more. His feelings were colliding back on him, and he wouldn’t be able to stash it away somewhere anymore. It was impacting him so badly that he was told to take time off work with how absent-minded he was being-- his superiors were worried about him since this never happened before. Shiki himself was worried too, this never happened before, he was so unfamiliar to love but he couldn’t push away his desires any further. They had an empty, anti-climatic conclusion, and Shiki didn’t just wish for Rikka, but he felt a heavy guilt on what he did.

It wasn’t exactly his fault that he and Rikka fell so deeply in love with each other, but he still felt like he was responsible for it. And at this point, his cold-hard logic was long gone already. He just wanted Rikka, and he finally had to admit it.

In Shiki’s eyes, Rikka was simply divine, with whom he just felt so much attraction for, for whom he just couldn’t tear himself away from. He missed the high-pitched moans Rikka produced that felt like music to his ears, missed the way he screwed his eyes shut whenever he entered, and missed his flushed face that dusted with pink, eyes clouded with lust and pleasure. His back still held evidence of the way Rikka had dug his nails into his skin, when he entered deep enough and hit his sweet spot, and it just made him pine even more for the man he had indirectly rejected. He couldn’t go on like this anymore.

Whilst, for Rikka, he got attached to Shiki too easily, and even as he continued his modelling gigs and career, he couldn’t forget him. His body desired Shiki, it thirsted for him specifically, and Rikka felt like he was a doll, reshaped into Shiki’s liking before being thrown away. He was hurt, and he didn’t know how to lift himself out of the pit Shiki kicked him into by accident-- he knew they both never meant to fall in love with each other, yet it just happened and now they were both suffering.

They knew this relationship was headed to nowhere, they knew that no matter where they decided to go to fuck, no matter what condition they left this relationship in, it wouldn’t last. 

Their spirits would break within the confines of this connection they had, whatever it was. All they could do was weakly tighten the hold they had on the other, trying not to be too distant, but not too close either, before they lost each other forever.

**_I always wanna be infinite and unable to die_ **

**_These blooming feelings are soaked in the moon_ **

**_Good-bye angel I loved you from first sight_ **

**_Your wings will take you anywhere_**

Unable to hold themselves back from each other, they arranged to meet each other and have one more night together like they used to-- neither of them mentioned wanting it to be their last time, but they knew it anyway. Upon seeing each other after so long, Rikka had to hold himself back from falling right into Shiki’s embrace, yet one small part of him wanted to be able to last on his own infinitely.  

Shiki paid for the hotel as usual-- as usual as when they met up for sex so frequently, when things weren’t as messy and stained with emotion as it was now. Rikka wistfully thought back to those days, wondering where everything started to go wrong. Perhaps it was the very beginning, and had either of them decided not to walk into the bar as the clock struck midnight, none of this would have happened. 

And had none of this happened, Rikka would have continued to act like a common whore to any random man who wanted him, letting endless shame take over him for the one tiny, dulled taste he grew addicted to through sex. Shiki would have continued to live his life as per normal, never being able to experience the heavy pain and desire love brought, and they both would have remained ignorant of their own emotions. 

In a way, Rikka figured, their meeting was for the better.

When they entered the hotel room, the air was tense, reminiscent of the tension they held between the two of them. The reason they even met that day was to settle things between them, get the truth out, and put it behind. That was their mutually shared objective, yet they were so reluctant to do so.

“Have you finally come to terms with your feelings?” Rikka murmured, tone low and laced with a longing for the past, for what they used to have. He didn’t want to take off his clothes yet-- he didn’t want to lay himself bare to Shiki yet, not when Shiki was refusing to expose himself to him. Before they could put this relationship into the back of their heads, he _needed_ it to be a mutual relationship where the both were honest with each other in the first place.

Shiki visibly tensed. He didn’t want to break down, he absolutely refused to let himself be exposed.

Rikka knew this, and he decided he’d have to do it the hard way, pushing Shiki down onto the bed and unbuttoning the other’s shirt. Shiki was confused, but he let down his guard, thinking Rikka was giving up and simply going to go about their last fuck. Rikka was going about it at a rather gentle pace, almost teasingly. He was on top, and Shiki wondered what spurred on the sudden change in position, but he didn’t really mind. It gave him a great view anyway.

Shiki was keeping his heart locked, but the both of them knew they wanted nothing but to be with each other. Rikka knew it all too well, and he was going to force Shiki to relent, no matter what it took. And as Rikka bent himself forward, draping himself onto the other, he started nipping the skin around his upper chest lightly, biting and releasing until reddish marks were formed. A low grunt escaped the other, who became aware of what he was trying to do, and was now trying to keep any sounds of pleasure from leaving his lips.

Being a model, Rikka knew how to seduce someone with his looks and his expression, and that was exactly what he was going for at that moment. The fact that he still kept his white shirt on, which was half-translucent with sweat at this point made it all the more erotic. After he felt like he marked Shiki enough, he proceeded to attack his lips, whilst wrapping his arms around his neck. It was a kiss that was violent yet soft, passionate yet tender, and their tongues were battling each other for dominance-- it tasted of desperation, an emotion Rikka was starting to get overly familiar with, and of desire mixed with sorrow, a flavour they were starting to get sick of, but yet they couldn’t part from it for as long as they were together.

Rikka’s aching need to push Shiki to confess was overtaking him and he wasn’t being gentle anymore. He hardly even prepared himself as he pushed Shiki inside him, causing moans and grunts to emit from them both as the sound of flesh against flesh echoed through the room. Rikka was riding Shiki, lifting his hips up and down erratically without any kind of rhythm, and Shiki was also barely able to hold onto his composure anymore.

And amidst their making of love, half-blinded by a need for the other to relent, Rikka found himself an opportunity.

“You love me,” Rikka’s voiced hitched, as Shiki thrust up and hit him right in that one spot, and he could barely say out his words in between pants. 

Shiki remained silent, but the hold he had on the other was tightening, and he could feel the pressure that Rikka was putting on him. He was close to release, and Rikka knew it.  
  
“I know you love me,” Rikka managed again, his only support being the mattress as he was being fucked from below, and he just wanted Shiki to relent already. He was tired and he just wanted to be able to have sex with Shiki like he usually did this final time before they were going to break everything off already. 

He enjoyed this, and the sensations it brought along with it, and he never wanted to last in a moment as much as he did this one, but all things were to pass, he knew. And it _hurt_ having to push Shiki over the edge, because what he was feeling was so fluttery and light yet so deep and heavy and he just wanted to leave behind all the sorrows they had already. He was going to be so heavily deprived once they separated, but he figured that it couldn’t even be helped anymore.

Rikka was at his limit, and so was Shiki, who finally came. And he clutched Rikka tightly, their breaths lightening a little and after which he finally muttered the long-awaited “I love you too”. 

In response, they locked lips again, embracing each other as tightly as they could, before they had to part.

“I love you, Shiki,” Rikka whispered, but he wasn’t meaning to say it as a proclamation of love, but more as an utterance of truth. He knew Shiki would figure that out. He dug his nails into Shiki’s back, marking him on the back as well (his older scratches on the other were beginning to fade), and pulled him closer. He didn’t need Shiki to voice out his love anymore; he knew it would hurt them both more if he had to say it another time. 

They continued to maintain their solemn silence; words would only further drive the both of them crazy for each other, and they were already at their breaking points. The desire the both of them held for each other was boundless, evident from the way Shiki laced his fingers around Rikka’s waist like a corset, unreleasing, and the way Rikka buried his face deep into Shiki’s nape, breathing in his scent as much as he could before he would never be able to experience it again. 

The love they had for each other was growing too taut, and they both knew it was on the verge of snapping. It was pulling tightly at their hearts, forcing them both to bend to their innate passions and also constraining the two of them from getting too close.  
  
Love was cruel, and it was nothing like the dreamy, almost fairy-tale like situations Rikka always mused over it for. The bitterness of love was overpowering the sweetness and now it was too late for him.  
  
The same went for Shiki, who in an even worse case, didn’t even want to love in the first place. Yet fate was cruel, and they were pulled in together by each other’s hidden longings at first sight. Unlike Rikka’s thinking, “love at first sight” did exist, but it just never went as well as he always thought it did.

Shiki made a pained expression as Rikka let go of him, his body yearning for more, his soul telling him this couldn’t be all. Nevertheless, they knew better and they’d have to bury their desires back into the hearts they unlocked and exposed to one another.

Even if they loved each other endlessly, they were hyper-aware to how this _thing_ they had, this odd relationship they didn’t know how to label, wouldn’t be able to last, and they’d have to break away from each other sooner or later.

They ended that night with a deep kiss, full of desperation and melancholy, and let their feelings melt together one last time, before they passed it off as a dream.

This was their inevitable conclusion, and the two of them blanketed their feelings underneath the glow of the moon, breaking off contact completely.

Yet, they still kept each other’s numbers. They just never contacted the other anymore.

Shiki was bound to find someone better, Rikka knew, who wouldn’t have to tear his walls down in such an unruly manner (like Rikka did). He would be able to find someone who could love who he was for who he was instead of expecting too much from him, unlike Rikka. He would be able to find someone who wasn’t as stained and dirty as him. He deserved better after all.  
  
With his wings of talent and passion for music, he had the capabilities to find anyone he wanted. Not to mention, the fame he had for his artfully crafted musical compositions and well-thought out lyrics would only make him more attractive as a bachelor. And he was a looker too, to boot. He was basically perfect, and Rikka was confident he wouldn’t have any problems with his love life.

And so as life went on for Rikka, his entire world monochromatic and bland just the way he hated it, he had to continue living again with his empty soul. He started to find himself more drawn to purple nowadays, and it was comforting yet painful. It was even more excruciating now that he had tasted the feeling of love and genuine passion, but it couldn’t be helped. He wouldn’t be able to ever forget about Shiki now, but it would be better for Shiki, he knew.  
  
Rikka was just a stain on his life, and he would move on.

Meanwhile, Shiki felt like Rikka wouldn’t have a problem without him, as much as he hated to admit it. Rikka got attached easily if he felt like he had an emotional connection to someone, and Shiki knew this from experience. As long as someone else who could connect with Rikka came along, he would be fine, and he’d forget about those nights he had with Shiki easily.

Additionally, Rikka was also by far the most bewitching and captivating person he’d come to know, so he wouldn’t have any issues charming whoever he liked into falling in love with him (just like he did to Shiki). He could take whoever he wanted, whatever he wanted with a little bit of work, and Shiki was but one of the things Rikka wanted. It just boiled down to whether he would even want something or not, but if he did, which Shiki was sure he would someday, he would get it. 

And as time went flying by for Shiki, who could never be as sharp as he was ever again now that he was blunted by Rikka, he had to again remain nonchalant to his feelings. He started burying himself in work more and more to forget Rikka, but it just brought back memories of how he did the same when trying to avoid the other, and it plagued him. But he had to accept the reality now, Rikka wasn’t his and was never his, and Rikka was going to be unaffected by this. He would live his life as per usual, and Shiki had to stop dwelling on the past.

Shiki was just a fleeting partner for Rikka, and he would move on.

It was the crushing truth for the both of them, but it was true.

Or at least to them, it was.


	2. amoris vulnus idem sanat qui facit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i realised i was inaccurate in having rikka meet shiki while shiki was a songwriter oops.  
> but anyway, the dialogue between shiki and rikka along this section is taken from the translations of the first solids drama cd:  
> (exact link: http://akemilena.tumblr.com/post/146571732256/solids-vol-1-track-2-translation)  
> and i used some of the lines so heres the credit! as always, thank you, translator-sans!
> 
> this chapter isn't painful at all, compared to the previous chapter, so i hope you all enjoy it!

Things were flavourless as usual, lacking just as his life always was. Rikka would sometimes mull over the times when he was always as empty as this, but he supposed this was the “eternal slumber” he was to fall back into after experiencing the sickly sweet flavour of happiness. 

He regretted breaking it off all those months ago, even though he knew it was for the better. He loathed the fact that he had actually disliked the pain that was brought with love because now he missed the bitter sting— he just wanted to feel something and he didn’t care what it was.

He dully wondered if he should go back into a life of prostituting himself for the price of momentary pleasure; the life where he’d have to go through cesspools of bile for that one tiny spark of spice.

It wasn’t worth it.

Frankly, he’d do anything to get back what he used to have; he’d do anything to get Shiki back. He desperately wanted to taste the sweetness of their shared love and get a sugar high again. But they split up on a mutually understood promise that was never mentioned verbally, and they couldn’t jump back into each other’s lives or they wouldn’t be able to go back anymore.

Not that Rikka wasn’t already ruined, but he digressed.

He went about his days as normal with the thinking that Shiki would be fine without him, and that one day  _ he _ would be fine without Shiki as well. One day the wounds that were formed by love would be healed, and if time was what it took, so be it. He’d get used to the flavourlessness of everything after a while again. After all, he grew up with it, and he was more familiar with being empty than anything else.

Yet, he knew it wasn’t going to be able to satiate him. But he didn’t want to think about that, for it would have brought back the momentary saltiness of pain.

Along the lazy days that flew by him, he started to tire of modelling. Perhaps being in the entertainment industry reminded him sorely of what he let out of his grasp. Seeing the name “Takamura Shiki” on CD covers and hearing his name being uttered by the people around him probably didn’t help, but he wasn’t going to make that his only reason. He never had the chance to grow up on his own and cultivate his own interests and passions, but he felt like he’d enjoy being a civil servant.

At the very least, if he was going to be an empty and soulless husk of a human being, it’d be nice if he was able to be useful to society. At the very least, his life wouldn’t be completely meaningless and he’d be doing something good with his life. Who knew, he might end up being able to taste lightly sweetened happiness knowing he could help something.

That was his thought process, but he didn’t exactly know how to quit his job because his parents (who supported his modelling heftily) and his agency would be highly opposed to his leaving. So he had to be stuck with this tastelessness and superficiality for a while longer, he supposed.

So while it remained rather difficult to actually leave, especially considering his young age, he kept his wish to retire to himself. Additionally, he felt like his agency would only be willing to let him go when he was 30, perhaps, but he had a long way until then. 8 years or so, in fact. 

As a last resort, he could always just let himself fade back into the background and let the newer models have the success they’d longed for so much— he’d been hogging the spotlight for long enough. He’d be more than happy to act as a mentor to the younger and upcoming models; he enjoyed taking care of people a lot after all. It was one of the things that made him feel needed and useful even with his lack of soul.

Those were the only kinds of things that ever made him feel like he was living, he realised. Helping others, being useful to someone, things like that.

The only thing that Rikka ever wanted for himself and was selfish for was Shiki, but now he didn’t have it anymore. Shiki gave him the most happiness he had ever experienced throughout his twenty years of existence, and he got absolutely drunk on the feeling of it.

That inspired a tiny leakage of peppery heartbrokenness onto his palate, and he couldn’t say he hated it.

In fact, he might’ve even missed it a little.

-

Frankly, the last thing he had ever expected was to bump into Shiki, much less in somewhere as crowded as Shibuya.

“Rikka?”

He thought he was mistaken at first, but he’d recognise that voice anywhere.

Having his first name called like that reminded him of their first official night together, giving him a rush of emotion. All kinds of flavours started to flood onto his tastebuds; the light staleness of nostalgia for what he missed so much, the fruity flavour of excitement for why he was even called in the first place, and the spicy tang of pain for what they lost.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was seated at a bar with Shiki. He didn’t know how to feel about the fact that he relented to his emotions almost immediately on sight of seeing the other, but he wasn’t exactly surprised at himself either. He was weak to Shiki, and he’d probably do whatever he said as long as he requested for it.  

“I know I invited you out of the blue, but thanks for making time for me. Were you really okay? You’re incredibly busy, as always, right?” 

He felt light being able to talk to him again after such a long time of stifling his desire for the other. But Shiki must’ve moved on already— he just needed more time and he’d forget Shiki as well. They had to go their separate paths, and if they tried to stick together they’d only suffer bitterly. That’s why they even split up in the first place, even though they were so reluctant about it. It was bitter both ways, but in their case, it was a matter of more bitterness or less.

“If it was impossible, I’d have refused. It’s been a while since I last met you, and I just needed a breather.” There were not many signs of wistfulness on Shiki’s part, and Rikka guessed he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. Or he was concealing it, but that was just wishful thinking.

No matter how much Rikka tried to disguise it, he was pretty sure his emotions were leaking out of his cracked facade. 

He supposed he had to thank Shiki for pretending not to notice, which he ended up doing internally.

“Then it's okay, but... to bump into each other in such a crowded place like Shibuya... I guess coincidences do exist. And with this timing, too." 

They ended up drifting into talk about work, which frankly was the only thing Rikka still felt like he knew about Shiki.

In the flow of the conversation, Rikka also ended up sharing his thoughts about leaving the entertainment industry to become a civil servant. And then somehow, it led to Shiki inviting him to join an idol group he was planning on forming.

“If it’s with you, I get the feeling I can do it well. Even if our views clash, we can talk to each other heart to heart. I want to make music with someone like that.”    


“I’m happy you told me that, but is there anything I can help with…?”

“Would you like to try singing?”

“Me?!”

While the idea of becoming an idol had never once crossed Rikka’s mind, it did seem relatively plausible now that he was thinking about it.

“Yes.”  

His tone was dead serious and Rikka was getting a bit overwhelmed by how fast this conversation was going. Though the offer was extremely tempting— if it meant he’d get to be with Shiki, he’d choose it in a heartbeat.  
  
His wish to be with Shiki never faded within all those months and it hurt him, but at least he could enjoy the dull sourness of pain. It was better than nothing.

“W-Wait a moment, I’ve never…?!”  
  
“You have a nice voice, I guarantee it.”

Rikka momentarily wondered if that ‘guarantee’ was from the moans Shiki had heard from him. 

“That’s… the first time I hear that…”

In this context, at least. Shiki told him before that he liked his moans a lot, that they were the perfect pitch for his ears and other technical jargon Rikka didn’t remember. He dismissed it as the kind of thing someone so dedicated to music like Shiki would say, but it still made his heart beat when he reminisced about it. Did that really count, though?

“It’s the first time I’m saying it. I didn’t think it was necessary to say to a model.”

A model he was banging, no less, but that wasn’t the point.

Rikka didn’t know how to react with how fast this was going. He didn’t know what he was feeling from this anymore; just like before, there were too many flavours lingering on his tongue which were all combining to produce a bitter, sour aftertaste that he wanted to wash off as quickly as possible. He needed water.

If he was lucky, he would be able to swallow back his feelings that were threatening to pour back out. A familiar tang of citrus was tickling his palate, and it got bitterer with every time he restrained himself.

It was hard, being so near someone he loved so much yet not being able to embrace them, kiss them and be one with them when you wanted to. 

Even if the sharp tang of heartbreak was better than the tasteless void he grew up with, it wasn’t ideal. He was much more of a sweet tooth than that.

-

What followed after his getting his water (and not being able to drink it) was the fateful encounter between them and two others— of whom they came to become a family of four, SolidS.

He didn’t manage to have the chance to swallow back his feelings in the end, so he had no reason to reject Shiki’s offer anyway. 

So the four of them ended up together, a happy family albeit the _ children’ _ s immaturities. (Tsubasa was really childish even though he was the older one of the two, but then Dai was also relatively mature. But Tsubasa’s childishness couldn’t be balanced out with ‘relative maturity’.)

And Rikka could savour the lasting sweetness that came with being with your loved one for as long as they were together, and that this time they wouldn’t separate.

Not only that, but he got two additional children to look after and take care of— which he loved doing— and it felt so warm and accepting. It was so different from his bleak life of unstopping emptiness and the occasional sting of heartbreak, and he loved how refreshing it tasted. 

It was sweet yet cool at the same time, kind of like a citrus fruit, and the sourness wasn’t the sore kind that struck him right at his heart. It was more gentle, and it popped in a delicate and elegant sort of manner that made him feel lighter.

It was different from the sweetness of love, but pleasant all the same. It was more of a familial affection, in a way, along with undertones of his own somewhat maternal instinct to take care of them. He just felt more tender around them, and it resulted in him doting on the two of them a lot, even though they were only three years apart at most.

But, hey, it counted!

And then there was the man who fed him the emotion he got incessantly drunk off, unable to tear himself away from. 

To say the least, after the four of them ended up getting a dorm together, Tsubasa and Dai probably had to listen to them fuck a lot. But they were adults anyway, and they weren’t that young, so it wasn’t  _ that _ bad. 

To them, at least. Tsubasa and Dai never really talked about it to them before, so they just assumed it was all good and continued their loud routine. Their sexual activity was more important than what the two of them had to say about it, and their keeping quiet just made things easier for them.

As a whole, he came to realise that he loved this family wholeheartedly, and he was more than just grateful to Shiki for letting him be part of it. Even if time did manage to heal his wounds of love that Shiki inflicted on him, the healing process would definitely have taken longer than what he had now. 

Nothing could ever beat the delicious sweetness of his current life with Shiki, who healed the wounds he had made. And more importantly, they promised that nothing would ever tear the two of them apart again.

And they swore once again beneath the cover of the moonlit night, that,

_ from that day forward, _

_ for better, for worse, _

_ for richer, for poorer, _

_ in sickness and in health, _

_ till death do them part, _

_ they’d love each other forever. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ama me usque dum dolet; si dolet signum bonum est - love until it hurts; if it hurts, it is good  
> amor est vitae essentia - love is the essence of life  
> amoris vulnus idem sanat qui facit - the wound of love is healed by the same who makes it
> 
> i got inspired by the enstars fic 'amicitia semper prodest, amor et nocet' written by shinke so i decided to use a latin title too-
> 
> honestly, you can’t tell me this isn’t what the lyrics of dark moon angel were referring to, especially with how sexual solids songs are usually LOL
> 
> i took about a week approximately to write this whole thing and now its the embodiment of my blood, sweat and tears (and fatigue) and im so glad you've managed to finish it!! this work is probably my most ambitious one yet and it has worn me out completely but!! anything for shikirikka!! 
> 
> but anyway, * the “fidelity” i mention in the previous chapter is actually one of the biblical symbolisms of salt, in which fidelity is a quality of faithfulness and loyalty. Rikka is described as a “free lady becoming like salt”, which stands for how Rikka who used to be so loose with his partners and going around to sleep with literally anyone who was willing became faithful and loyal to someone. i just thought this was worth mentioning though hhhh
> 
> i hope the last part makes you cry from it being too touching uwu  
> and this wraps up this entire mess of a fic! isnt it good it ended happily? SolidS truly saves lives. 
> 
> and thank you, reader-san, for managing to read this whole thing!!! i appreciate and love you all <3  
> its been a wild ride, and its now over. hooray!


End file.
